


Before the Beginning

by somestrangecircus



Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-16
Updated: 2009-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somestrangecircus/pseuds/somestrangecircus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren't always the perfect team. These things take time, you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Beginning

On a fairly normal morning, they met.

They looked each other over, in that subtle sizing-up way that two new partners did. She thought that he was kind of tall. She thought that he thought that she was kind of short. He looked very formal and working-guy-type in his suit, and she had a sudden paranoia that the shirt she was wearing had lint on it.

Finally she offered her hand. "Hi."

"Hi."

They shook hands. "Alex Eames," she said.

"Robert Goren."

They dropped their hands.

She'd forgotten what it was like getting a new partner. The awkwardness. The knowledge that your life was now at least partially in the hands of someone you'd never met.

Mostly the awkwardness.

_Hey, this won't be so bad,_ she told herself privately. _He doesn't look like a murderer. Or a serial rapist. He looks sane enough—at least, as sane as anyone who took this job can be. We'll do fine._

-

He started calling her "Eames" right off the bat. For some reason, she didn't seem to have the opportunity to address him by name much, but when she did, it was always "Goren."

They were formal. They got the job done and they didn't argue over lunch, but they were careful with each other. Like partners should be.

_Okay,_ she thought. _Okay. Good. This is good._

-

The first time they needed to drive somewhere together—to the victim's home, to question his wife—he made a move for the car door. She could see that she was going to have to set him straight pretty quickly.

"I'm driving." She held out her hand for the keys.

He blinked. "Um…"

She cut him an eye. "I can't drive without the keys."

He tossed the keys to her and got into the car. She started up the engine and they started off.

"You like to drive," he said, not like a question.

"Yeah." She'd never particularly liked car rides. Ever since learning to drive, she'd avoided being the passenger if she could help it.

"Not a big fan of car rides?"

She twitched a little at that. Oh, great. He had that mind-reading thing that parents used on their kids. She'd always hated that mind-reading thing when her parents used it on her. "Uh, right," she said.

"I don't mind."

"Great."

They were both quiet for a while after that.

Really quiet.

Dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot—

"So," she finally said, just to break the silence. Awkward silences were not her favorite thing.

"Hmm?"

"Uh…we're here."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

…

_God, this is awkward,_ she thought.

-

He asked most of the questions to the wife of the deceased. Eames didn't quite know what to make of it. He tilted his head a lot. He picked up on things that weren't out in the open and he brought them out into the open. He asked questions that not most people asked, not even a detective.

On the way to get lunch, she wondered if she should ask him about it, but she couldn't think of how she could phrase it without sounding rude or irritating, so she decided to let it go for now.

"You thought I was…different," he suggested suddenly.

She _really_ hated that mind-reading thing.

"What makes you say that?" she said out loud.

"That look on your face." He shrugged. "You look like you're trying not to say something. Or thinking about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.

-

Later, they were doing paperwork at their respective desks when someone tapped Eames on the shoulder. She looked up. A female detective with long, light brown hair and an open, friendly face. She looked familiar.

"Alex! How are you doing?"

"Okay," she replied, glancing briefly at Goren and then back at the person talking to her. She looked so _familiar_. What was her name again? Tammy?

"It's been so long! I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever…"

Eames nodded, trying to look like she was paying complete attention. No, it wasn't Tammy. Valerie? Mallory? No, that wasn't it, either…

"Oh, and…" Tammy/Valerie/Mallory lowered her voice, leaning closer. "I heard about Joe, too."

Eames froze.

"I'm so sorry." She patted Eames on the shoulder. "I know it's been awhile…I just want you to know that I'm here for you. And—"

"I'm sorry," Eames interrupted loudly. She could feel Goren's eyes on her, she could feel her own face burning, and she could feel the urge to kill this Tammy/Valerie/Mallory going up up up. "But Goren and I have a _witness to interview_. Don't we?"

"Um…" Goren blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, we do."

"So." Eames stood up and hurriedly gathered her files together. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Tammy/Valerie/Mallory looked a little startled, but nodded and says, "Okay. See you around, Alex."

-

On the drive over, he asked carefully, "Joe is…your husband?"

"It's none of your business," she answered flatly.

-

"So how are you and Goren doing?" Deakins asked her amiably, about a week later.

Eames shrugged. "Okay, I guess." She glanced over at Goren's desk through the glass. He was talking on the phone. "Is he always so…"

She didn't quite know how to finish that, but Deakins seemed to pick up on her meaning. "Yeah," he completed. "He is."

She sighed. "Wonderful."

"Look, I know he's a little…different. But he's a great detective. And so are you." Deakins smiled. "You two shouldn't have any problems getting along."

"Right."

"You guys will make a great team." Deakins smiled again. "You'll see."

-

And a couple of weeks later:

"He's a nutcase," she told Deakins quite bluntly. "I want a new partner."

She'd already written a letter about it (and she was very careful with her word choice; when her sister found and read it she gave Eames a look and said, "Jesus, Alex, what did he _do_?"), but she wanted to make sure she got the point across. Because she seriously doubted whether she could put up with Robert Goren's antics for one more second. At least, not without killing something. Or someone. Like him, maybe.

Deakins sighed, as though he wasn't surprised. "Eames."

"I mean it." Eames leaned in a little closer. "He's unstable, he's almost _violent_ , he's completely—"

"Eames." Deakins held up a placating hand. "Can we slow down and talk about this?"

"We _are_ talking about it. I'm telling you, if I have to put up with him for _one more second_ —"

" _Alex_."

She stopped.

Deakins sighed again. "Listen to me. Bobby is a good detective. One of our best, in fact. His methods are just a little…unconventional."

Eames rolled her eyes and pulled a face. She could think of about twenty bitingly sarcastic comments to insert there, but chose not to say any of them.

"And, honestly?" Deakins continued. "I really don't have anyone else to pair him with at the moment. Not for a little while, at least, unless you're willing to wait around for a transfer."

"I don't want to transfer."

"Well, then." Deakins folded his hands together. "Give it a little time. I'm sure you two will make a good team with time. And give the guy a break. He's been through too many partners and I'm sure he can't be too happy about it, so—"

_Knock knock knock._

Deakins and Eames both looked to the door.

Guess who.

_Crap._

Eames looked away. She really hoped that he had just gotten there and didn't hear a word and didn't have a clue of what they were talking about. She may not have liked Goren as a detective, but she was still a human being and so was he, and she didn't want to hurt his _feelings_ , for God's sake.

Deakins beckoned to Goren, and then looked back at Eames. "Are we done here?"

Eames nodded and stood up. "I guess we are."

Goren walked into the room, clutching a file, looking from Eames to Deakins. "Am I interrupting, Captain?"

"No, not at all," Deakins replied. "Alex was just leaving."

And Eames did leave. She tried very hard not to look at Goren on her way out and really hoped he wasn't looking at her.

-

The next day, she came to the desk holding a file and pulled up short at the sight of Goren whispering on his cell phone. He glanced at her and she continued on her merry way, sitting down and making a great show of looking through the papers. He turned his head away a little, and she caught the words "mother" and "technician" and " _really_ ," but couldn't hear much else.

"All right," he finally finished. "Thank you, Doctor."

And then he hung up, looking very much like he wanted to throw something into a wall.

"You…okay?" she asked carefully.

He looked away and sighed. He put a hand on his forehead and took a long, slow breath. Probably restraining himself from killing her.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He smiled weakly. She frowned, not fooled.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Her eyebrow was raised and she wanted to press the issue, but her cell phone rang. Still looking suspiciously at him, she pulled out her phone and answered it. "Eames."

He watched her as she talked. When she hung up and looked at him, opening her mouth, he said, "Got it. Let's go."

-

On the way over to their next case, he didn't try to make conversation, and she figured that keeping her mouth shut might be a good idea.

"Can I ask about your mom?" she said instead.

"What about her?" he almost snaps.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I was just wondering. You seemed kind of…"

"What?" Now he really was snapping. "Kind of what?"

"Stressed," she replied coolly, turning a corner so sharply that a car horn next to her honked. "And there's no need to jump down my throat, thank you."

He looked as if he might yell, but slowly, the anger drained out of his face. Eventually, he said in a quiet, defeated voice, "She's…at the…the Caramel Ridge Center."

She practically felt the icy paleness settling on her face. She might have driven off the road if not for the fact that they were currently stopped at a red light.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Schizophrenia." The word seemed to strangle him.

"Oh." She tapped her finger on the steering wheel. She tried to picture something happy to get rid of the sudden sinking feeling that was rushing through her body. She couldn't think of anything. "Oh," she said again.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't need to…I mean, it's not…not your fault."

"I'm…" Eames shook her head. "I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business."

"No, really, it's fine." He turned his head to look out the window. Then he looked back at her. "I haven't…told anyone. In a long time." He laughed. "Lucky you, right?"

She looked over at him. She couldn't help it.

Her face twisted. Oh, God, now she was feeling really guilty. Really, _really_ guilty.

And then she surprised herself by saying, "It's okay."

He blinked.

"You don't need to be…ashamed or anything." She couldn't believe the gentleness in her voice. "I don't…I mean, it's…it's fine."

"It's not really that I'm ashamed. I just…I don't know." He shrugged. "It's…hard. You know?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I do." She thought a moment. "You remember Joe?"

He thought a moment. "Yes."

"My husband. He was a cop." She could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. "He was undercover in a big drug bust. One of the dealers shot him." She shrugged, trying to make the motion nonchalant and not really succeeding. "You know."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I do."

She sighed. "I don't talk about that much. I guess…I don't know." She laughed a little, shakily. "It's just…hard. Really hard."

Oh, God. Her eyes were getting that burning feeling, way in the back.

_No. No crying. Absolutely not. No fucking way._

"It's okay," he said.

Her eyes widened.

"It's all right." He smiled. "Really."

She shrugged. She was spared from answering by parking—they'd finally arrived at their destination.

They both unbuckled their seatbelts, and she was about to get out when he said, "Eames."

She turned to face him.

"Thanks," he said, with a real smile.

She couldn't help it. She smiled back.

"No problem."

And off they went.

-

One week later:

They showed up at the suspect's mother's house, and he did his thing, questioning and tilting his head and looking around. Eames, for her part, stood next to him and inserted a question when he stopped, but didn't get in the way. When the mother turned away, mumbling angrily, Goren turned to look at Eames with a look she couldn't quite identify. Gratitude and surprise and happiness all in one. Maybe.

She almost grinned.

On the way out, the mother grabbed Eames by the arm. "What's the matter with him?" she whispered fiercely.

Eames blinked innocently. "Hmm?"

Goren had paused, looking back. Eames shook her head at him.

"Seriously." The mother lowered her voice. "He's…" She glanced very briefly at Goren, then groaned. " _Weird_! I sincerely hope that not all detectives are like that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Eames said lightly. "Goren's a great detective. One of the best."

And with that, she pulled her hand away.

-

In the car, they were both quiet. Silent, actually, until they pulled into One PP and Goren said, "I heard what you said."

Eames didn't reply.

"I…appreciate it." He turned and smiled. "Thanks."

This time she really grinned. "No problem."

-

The next day, she was the first one there—earlier than Goren, who was early a fair amount of the time. When he did get there, he said, "Eames. What are you doing here so early?"

She opened her mouth.

_Oh, you know. Just withdrawing a stupid and misguided request. Mentally ripping a certain letter to shreds. Nothing unusual._

"Nothing, really," she said. "Just wanted to get here early. You?"

"Same." He was about to pull out his chair and sit down when his phone rang. He pulled it out and answered. "Goren."

She stared at him while he talked. She thought back to when they'd met. That first time.

Short and tall. Handshake. Alex Eames. Robert Goren.

"Eames."

She started. "What?"

"Looks like we're up." He waved his phone. "Ready?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

-

As he was about to get in, she stopped him. "Bobby."

His face shot—actually _shot_ —up. It was the first time she'd seen him look really surprised. She wondered if she'd overstepped with the first name address.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He tilted his head. "For what?"

"Nothing." Pause. "Everything." Another pause. "I don't know."

"Okay," he said.

"Okay."

"All right."

She opened the car door. "We should go."

"Yeah."

-

They were quiet again on the way there, but it was a different kind of quiet. Less tense, more relaxed. She found that she liked it that way.

She thought of everything— _everything_ —and smiled.

_"Robert Goren."_

_"Alex Eames."_

She smiled, and thought that maybe they'd make a good team after all.


End file.
